The Way We Hurt
by Sanqhian
Summary: The many ways we hurt. A collection of short stories based on songs. Multiple pairings.
1. Need You Now

**Pairing:**_ Timothy/Tony_**  
>Song: <strong>_"I need you Now" by Lady Antebellum_

* * *

><p>He sat there on the floor feeling like a piece of discarded dirty laundry. The soft glow of a lamp on the nearby table chased the darkness into the corners, a fog of shadow creeping across the majority of the room. He tried to ignore the unshed tears, the threatening headache after a long trying day. There wasn't much to his apartment, but what little there was lay scattered on the floor as though someone tore through the place looking for something specific.<p>

Isn't that exactly what he had done? Books once carefully placed on the shelves lay in heaps; a few of his electronic gadgets might have been broken during the course of his fit. It was so unlike him to create such a huge mess, to treat his things with such disrespect. But he had been searching for a shoebox, a simple little beige box that meant the entire world to him, gave him a reason for getting out of bed in the morning.

Or at least it used to.

In the beginning it had been a bit of a joke, the way he kept the mementoes secreted away from prying eyes. But eventually it began to make sense, hiding the truth from everyone. Even now he found it amazing that he managed to keep his cool, to bury a secret so deep the boss never noticed. At least that's how he liked to think of it, after all Gibbs never once mentioned a word about his relationship, never asked a question about the person he was seeing. There were days when he would come home, dig out the shoe box and sift through the memories, a faint smile on his lips.

But something went wrong. It all began to fall apart. He wasn't quite sure when it started, what event sent the dominos toppling. All he knew was that it now hurt him every day, became harder and harder to drag himself out of bed. And what exactly was he supposed to tell them? His friends, the people he worked with, none of them knew how deeply he was hurting. He lied, called into work roughly a week ago, said he was sick, not feeling well, and continued to keep up the charade. Eventually his boss would catch on, Gibbs always did, and he kept expecting there to be a knock at the door. With each passing day that it did not come he fell a little further into the wallowing pit of depression currently clinging fast to his heart.

The last time he felt pain of this magnitude….well, he had never felt this bad in his life.

He let out a trembling sigh, glancing at the pictures scattered around him, pictures of happier times, memories he still cherished. He reached for one in particular, a candid shot of him with Tony taken by Abby without either of them knowing. She had liked the picture, thought he might get a kick out of it, maybe even use it to get under Tony's skin. If only she understood how much he loved the picture, how much it meant to him. It had been taken the day Agent Fornell came waltzing into the office and declared them under his lock and key. He had been trying to back up files and Tony in his desire to be the class clown pretended to dump a cup of coffee all over the computer equipment.

Instead it turned out to be nothing more than tiny slips of paper.

But for Tim it was a moment he thought about so very often. He had ended up standing there in the office with Tony right behind him, arms held out, just a second away from hugging him from behind. And that was the moment Abby captured with her phone as she passed through unbeknown to them. As he stared at the photo now he felt a lone tear slide down his cheek.

He reached for the phone.

_Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor  
>Reachin' for the phone 'cause I can't fight it anymore<br>And I wonder if I ever cross your mind  
>For me it happens all the time<em>

Before he could dial he caught sight of the clock on the wall. A quarter after one in the morning. A horrible time to be making a phone call. Not to mention, he made a promise. He let the handset slip from his hand, turned his back on the phone. He still could not believe the turn of events his life took upon accepting the job with Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a legend in the NCIS world. It was a position he felt honored to get, one he truly fell in love with, and even after the loss of Kate he somehow managed to find a bit of joy in the things he did.

Maybe it was the failed relationship with Abby.

It could have been Kate's death.

Or the sudden death of the director.

Whatever it was it drove him into Tony's arms late one night and the two of them, surprised by their actions, never looked back. At least, that's how he liked to think of it. As far as he was concerned the people at work saw it in a different light. Saw him bothered with the many childish games Tony played, all the names Tony insisted on calling him. And the annoying way Tony continually referred to him as Probie. God, he had come to love hearing that name slip from between Tony's lips in their private moments. A sign of affection at the office.

He fell head over heels in love with Tony, had realized he wasn't living until the moment Tony kissed him while the snow swirled around them on a cold December night. Another moment he never wanted to forget. And yet, yet he wanted to erase them all from his life, from his mind so he wouldn't feel as though he was being eaten alive from the inside out. The numbing pain seemed to spread further and further with each passing second. He couldn't take it anymore.

Another tear slid down his cheek as he reached for the phone.

_It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now  
>Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now<br>And I don't know how I can do without  
>I just need you now<em>

He listened as it rang.

* * *

><p>He picked up the bottle, poured a little more of the amber colored liquid into the glass. The smell hit him before he raised the glass to his lips, taking yet another sip. At this rate he was going to finish the entire bottle before morning rolled around. Since when did he try to fix his pain with a bottle of alcohol? Since when did he sit in the dark waiting for the front door to open admitting not only a glimmer of the light in the hallway but also the person he loved? After his undercover work for the director, trying to get close to an arms dealer, he never once thought he would have a chance at being in love again.<p>

Then things began to take an interesting and surprising turn with McGee.

The one person he admitted to overlooking for so many years. Whoever would have thought he would find comfort in those arms? That he would find himself trying to think of ways to steal private moments in the office while the others were none the wiser? McGee did a lot of things for him, a lot of things he probably should have said aloud, thought he should have shared as they lay in bed together.

And yet he opted to keep them locked away, silenced, his secrets. He had never been good at opening up, at declaring his feelings for the person that meant everything to him. He struggled when he was with Jeanne, should have learned his lessons then, but perhaps he grew afraid. Up until that kiss with McGee he had never thought of another guy in that way. It terrified him, the feelings he experienced welling up in his heart. He went from poking fun at Tim to wanting nothing more than to hold him every night.

But somewhere along the way things started to fall apart. He blamed himself. Somehow he always managed to screw things up. He took another sip of the bitter alcohol, felt it burn on the way down.

_Another shot of whiskey can't stop looking at the door  
>Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before<br>And I wonder if I ever cross your mind  
>For me it happens all the time<em>

He stared at his cell phone resting on his lap. A whole week and not a single word from McGee. Not even so much as a mention of his beloved Timothy. It broke his heart into thousands of little pieces. He knew this was his fault, not Tim's. He needed to pick-up the phone, make the call, say the words he knew that Tim was waiting for, and yet he continued to sit there, hoping, praying. What he would not give to have the door open, to see his Timothy shuffle in ready to make peace.

Why should it be up to Tim? He was the one that screwed it up.

When McGee called in sick at the beginning of the week he tried not to think too much of it, put it out of his mind. For all he knew McGee had come down with something. But day after day passed and McGee failed to show-up for work. Tony saw the way it irritated Gibbs. On Wednesday he began to feel an unexplainable sensation, almost like someone was standing right behind his shoulder, breathing down his back. When McGee called in that morning Gibbs glared in his direction as he hung up the phone. All this time he thought they had been careful with their relationship. All this time he had been fooling himself. He should have known better then the others that nothing got by Gibbs. The man had rules, thought, and rule 12 said not to sleep with co-workers. A rule he broke. A rule he led McGee to break.

Gibbs knew.

As conformation Gibbs stopped him on the way out of work earlier in the evening. Well, according to the clock, the day before. Gibbs cornered him, told him that he didn't care what the hell was going on between him and McGee in regards to their relationship. Said he had known about it since the beginning, had actually been expecting it; which of course surprised Tony. He never saw it coming. Then again, did he ever? Then Gibbs smacked him in the back of the head, told him to get his act together, fix whatever he broke so that McGee would return to work. They were a hand short and it was taking its toll on the team, not to mention, he pointed out, it wasn't fair to make McGee suffer. Gibbs told him to stop playing games, just do what his heart told him.

Do what his heart told him.

He wanted so bad to follow that tidbit of advice, to pick-up the damn phone and call Timothy, tell him those precious words, the words he kept so close. But he found taking the step to be the hardest thing of his life. Last time he said those three little words he ended up broken hearted, gutted, lost. Of course, with Jeanne things had been different. She was meant to be nothing more than an undercover job that he took too far. A job he let his personal feelings get mixed up in. With Timothy it was something else all together. Perhaps the real deal.

A faint sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He started recalling precious memories, the way he used to tease McGee about the shoebox he tried to keep a secret. Yet deep inside he loved that McGee felt the need to cling to meaningless things. A pencil stolen from his desk. A balled up piece of paper. All those pictures of them together. Much to his surprise McGee even had a recording of him singing when he'd been standing on a sidewalk undercover. Most likely a gift from the director before her untimely passing. Seemed that on some level they all knew.

And now they knew how he fucked up.

_It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now  
>Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now<br>And I don't know how I can do without  
>I just need you now<em>

His mind wandered back to the argument, not even exactly sure what started it anymore. However, there was no doubt in his mind that he was the one responsible. He was the one that got the ball rolling. Something he did sent his Timothy down the wrong road, angered him, and then came all the heated words. Tony could still hear those last words clear in his mind, echoing over and over again. _I'm not going to call you this time, Tony. If you want this…if you…forget it. Don't call me. _Then the door had been closed in his face, the final straw, the one moment that brought it all crashing down, forced him back into reality. He should have banged on the door, shouted his apologies right then and there, declared his love. Instead he went home. Damn his pride.

"Damn my pride," he muttered._  
><em>

As he drained the last of the alcohol from his glass he reached for the phone.

_ Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothin' at all  
>It's a quarter after one I'm all alone and I need you now<br>And I said I wouldn't call but I'm a little drunk and I need you now_

* * *

><p>McGee let the phone fall to the floor, unable to gather the strength to hit the speed dial. He said he wouldn't call, didn't want to be the first one to make a move. It always fell in his lap to patch things up after their fights. For once he wanted to know that Tony cared, that Tony actually loved him and that this wasn't all some game. A steady stream of tears began to course down his cheeks as he prayed for the phone to ring.<p>

_And I don't know how I can do without  
>I just need you now<em>

* * *

><p>He froze, his thumb over the speed dial, all it would take was one push of a button to set things right, but he couldn't do it. For some reason he froze, his heart beating thunderously in his chest.<p>

"Just say it, you damn fool," he growled in the darkness, angry at his own weakness. He threw the glass across the room, listened to the musical chime of it shattering into a million pieces much the way his heart had. "Why can't you just say the fucking words? I love you, Timothy McGee. See? Was that so hard? Just make the call, tell him the truth, make the pain go away."

He hesitated further, the ticking of the clock the only sound in the room. And then he suddenly hit the button, hadn't even been thinking about doing it. He heard the phone ring on the other end; sweat began to break out on his palms, his upper lip. He feared his heart might beat a hole through his ribcage. What if Tim didn't pick-up? What if his favorite Probie wanted nothing to do with him anymore?

_I just need you now  
>Ooo, baby, I need you now<em>

The phone connected. Someone picked up. Timothy didn't say a word but Tony heard him breathing. It broke his heart when he realized his lover must have been sitting there in tears. Only his Timothy. He wanted to hold him, to chase away the pain he caused. He closed his eyes, his brain screaming at him to speak before the moment passed and he lost his man forever.

"I…" his voice croaked with emotion. It sounded so foreign, strange. And then the words poured out, not the words he knew Timothy longed to hear but he hoped they would do in the moment. "I need you, Timothy."


	2. Stay

**Pairing:**_ Tony/Gibbs_**  
>Song: <strong>_"Stay" by Sugarland_

* * *

><p>"Tony, are you okay?"<p>

He startled, forced out of his well of thoughts back to the present. Ziva was standing before his desk, head slightly titled to the side, a curious expression on her face. When he caught her eye he saw the flash of worry and concern. He glanced down at the open file on his desk. The cursor on his computer monitor flashed, blinked waiting for him to input the data for a search Gibbs had ordered.

"Fine," he replied, not happy to hear the tiny tremor in his voice. He quickly cleared his throat, followed up with a swig of water. He flashed her a smile when she did not move, her expression not changing. He hoped and prayed she did not notice how fake it felt to him. "Just thinking about the case."

She frowned, furrowing her brow. "You have been acting weird these last few days, Tony. Are you sure everything is okay? You have not been this way since-"

"Really, I'm fine," he cut her off, not wanting to hear that name, not again. It would only bring to his mind another failed attempt at a love that felt so right. Why had he let her walk out of his life on their final meeting? Simple, because he knew that no matter how much he loved Jeanne, she was not the one for him, not the one who held the key to his heart. Though back then he held no hope of feeling that particular person's arms wrapped around him. Funny how the world work.

When she saw that he was not going to elaborate further she walked off, disappearing to places unknown. A quick glance around he saw that the rest of his teammates were also missing in action. All chasing down one lead or another. He leaned back in his chair, catching sight of the clock on his computer, and letting out a sigh. He had lied, lied to one of his best friends, and it only served to make him feel worse. But how could he spill his guts, tell her the truth when he didn't even know where to start? How had his life gone from a perfect moment of bliss to this completely fucked up mess?

_I've been sitting here staring at the clock on the wall  
>And I've been laying here praying, praying she won't call<br>It's just another call from home  
>And you'll get it and be gone and I'll be crying<em>

He felt a burning sensation in his eyes as he thought about the night before, and all the nights before it. They always started out so perfectly with him in the company of his lover. After all these years, so many hardships, the loss of good friends, he found what he had been searching for in the arms of his boss. Nobody knew, simply because Gibbs was a genius at keeping their relationship a secret. Sure there were people like Ziva and Ducky who saw the subtle changes in their attitudes but even they had not picked up on the truth.

None of them knew how much it hurt to be in love with a man he could not completely have.

Gibbs did not want anyone to know about them, about them being a couple. How would it look to be the boss breaking your own rules? Rule nine, don't sleep with coworkers. And it wasn't just the rules, Tony knew, there was more to it. Gibbs was a Marine once upon a time, a formidable force, a strong man with a reputation, appearances to keep up; what would the world think of him if they found out he not only sleeping with a co-worker, but a male co-worker at that? When it started out Tony understood, went with the flow, yet he felt a burning desire with the passing of each day to tell someone, anyone.

Last night after the phone call came in, he stood in his apartment and cried out; screamed at the top of his lungs, screw his neighbors.

_And I'll be begging you, baby, beg you not to leave  
>But I'll be left here waiting with my heart on my sleeve<br>Oh, for the next time we'll be here  
>Seems like a million years and I think I'm dying<br>What do I have to do to make you see she can't love you like me?_

Getting up from his desk he somehow managed to keep his calm as he walked toward the elevator. He needed a place where he could get some honest, decent privacy. When the doors opened he stepped inside, heard someone calling his name, possibly McGee or even Ziva, but he let the doors close, hitting the down button. Once the elevator started moving he waited a few seconds before flipping the switch, stopping the cage in mid track. The silence wrapped protectively around him as he sank to the floor, tears starting to leave wet tracks down his cheeks.

Who knew love could hurt so much?

_Why don't you stay? I'm down on my knees_  
><em>I'm so tired of being lonely, don't I give you what you need?<em>  
><em>When she calls you to go, there is one thing you should know<em>  
><em>We don't have to live this way, baby, why don't you stay? Yeah<em>

He knew about her when they started out, understood that there was something going on between them. What Gibbs saw in that Army woman was beyond him, but it helped to keep up appearances. Only as the days passed growing into weeks and months he began to wonder where Gibbs' heart truly lay. The two of them seemed to be falling more and more in love, well all the while he stood on the sidelines, a shadow in the darkness watching them, observing. When she spoke with him he acted like a good friend, put on a front, went with the flow because he knew it was the only way he could keep Gibbs.

But in those private moments with Gibbs, when they would be lying in bed together, touching, listening to each other breathe, the doubts would surface and he wouldn't be able to keep them locked inside. He never wanted Gibbs to go, wanted him to just once spend the entire night, to see him in the morning, to share breakfast. But she always called looking for Gibbs, begging him to come by her place, her sweet voice audible in the silence of the room. For some reason Gibbs always heard the love in her voice, he never heard the sound of Tony's heart breaking as he got out of bed, getting ready to leave.

In the beginning he understood. Then time passed and the hurt began to gnaw at his heart, threatening to drive him into the unforgiving darkness. He started begging, asking Gibbs to stay, just one night, that's all he wanted. And there would be promises, encouraging and loving words. Enough to keep him waiting until the next night when the whole mess would play out again, a well worn recording.

_You keep telling me, baby there will come a time_  
><em>When you will leave her arms and forever be in mine<em>  
><em>But I don't think that's the truth<em>  
><em>And I don't like being used and I'm tired of waiting<em>  
><em>It's too much pain to have to bear to love a man you have to share<em>

He felt the tears, rubbed his hands over his cheeks to make them vanish. He could not let the other see how distraught he was, or they would start asking all sorts of uncomfortable questions. And something told him that it would be one question too many that caused him to snap. He could only pretend to be happy and unaffected for so long. That time was starting to run out. He spent more and more time dwelling on why things could not be the way he wanted. At crime scenes he caught himself staring at Gibbs, watching him conduct interviews, conversing with other members of their close team, working the scene. In the office he tended to zone out, pulling inside himself, always trying to find the perfect thing to say, the words he needed to find in order to make Gibbs stay.

Just one night, was it really too much to ask?

Maybe if he could get him to stay for one night it would be what they needed, the right thing to help Gibbs see how much he needed him. And yet…he knew it would never happen. Not in a million years. It tore him up inside, the tears beginning to well once again, his heart shattering for the millionth time. Love _wasn't_ supposed to hurt, not like this, not a constant heart break.

_Why don't you stay? I'm down on my knees_  
><em>I'm so tired of being lonely, don't I give you what you need?<em>  
><em>When she calls you to go, there is one thing you should know<em>  
><em>We don't have to live this way, baby, why don't you stay?<em>

The longer he waited in the silence of the immobile elevator he knew how much harder it would be to get the others to leave him alone. He used his shirt sleeve to dry his eyes, pushing himself into a standing position, trying to get back a little of his composure. With his eyes closed, he let out a sigh. Then he flipped the switch, hit the right button to bring him back to his desk and waited. He hesitated before stepping off the elevator, steeling his spine for the glances that would be coming his way, yet when he started toward his desk he saw that the others hadn't yet returned.

As he settled in his chair he tried to focus all his attention on the work laid out on his desk, but an all too familiar voice drew his eyes toward the Most Wanted wall. He sucked in a breath, watched as Gibbs walked with her toward the elevators, laughing and talking, happy and comfortable in each other's company. He broke a little more.

And then something suddenly dawned on him, an answer stepping into the light.

_I can't take it any longer but my will is getting stronger  
>And I think I know just what I have to do<br>I can't waste another minute after all that I've put in it  
>I've given you my best, why does she get the best of you?<br>So next time you find you wanna leave her bed for mine_

If he kept on this track he risked losing everything he held most dear. Underneath the heartache he felt the growing sensation of resentment. As he watched Gibbs kiss her on the cheek, letting her go into the elevator alone, he understood what it was that he had to do, not matter how much it hurt. Falling in love with his boss had been a mistake, a terrible mistake he could not fix. Perhaps on some level he did not want to, always cherishing the time they spent together. Yet, the despair and resentment threatened to bring around the end of their friendship, the partnership they had forged over the last few years.

Could he live with himself if that happened?

Snatching up a piece of paper he began to write, doing something he never thought himself capable of, putting his feelings down into words. He wrote feverishly, letting it all out, fighting back the tears that began to build for the umpteenth time. And when he finished he found that he felt somewhat better, a small weight lifted off of his chest. Looking around the office he spotted Gibbs talking to Abby, the spunky goth girl holding a piece of paper in her hands. A small piece of the crime scene solved.

He got up from his desk, folded note in hand.

_Why don't you stay? I'm up off my knees_  
><em>I'm so tired of being lonely, you can't give me what I need<em>  
><em>When she begs you not to go, there is one thing you should know<em>  
><em>I don't have to live this way, baby, why don't you stay? Yeah, oh<em>

He left it on Gibbs' desk, then returned to his mess, closing the file, shutting down the computer. He grabbed his coat and car keys, gave the office a sweeping look, then headed for the elevator. With a heavy heart he stepped into the car, pressing the down button. He kept his back to the doors, his heart heavy with his decision. But deep down inside he knew it was the right thing to do, no matter how much it hurt.


End file.
